Red
by Carinthe
Summary: He’s lying there. Broken. Useless. Snowflakes he can’t feel falling into his eyes. His faltering breath the only sound in a peaceful white world. A strange serenity in his heart, even though his body feels on fire...
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** _Loooooong time no write. This is a bit of finger practice resulting from digging up an old abandoned piece of text. If you can stop after reading chapter 1, good for you! That was the original piece, written without a particular character in mind. If you, like me, feel horrible about leaving a story with a bad ending, go on to read chapter 2..._

_-_

**Red**

-

Red.

Life is red.

Drops of life sinking into the white blanket.

His eyes slowly focus on his right hand, lying limply away from the rest of his body, vainly reaching for something undefined.

The hand that had gripped the gun hesitantly at first, nearly dropping it due to the overwhelming revulsion coursing through his entire body. But it had held on to the weapon and had learned to unleash its destructive power, quite expertly, despite the horror it evoked in his very core.

Kill or be killed.

He had chosen the coward's way out. Still, he cursed himself for not being able to summon enough courage. For failing himself. The high ideas and morals he had set for himself.

He had betrayed his soul, by allowing red-hot rage to wash away pristine white innocence.

For every life he had taken, a piece of his own soul had been chipped off, leaving raw, bleeding wounds no medicine could ever heal.

Never whole again.

So he's lying here. Broken. Useless. Snowflakes he can't feel falling into his eyes. His faltering breath the only sound in a peaceful white world. A strange serenity in his heart, even though his body feels on fire.

He blinks once, slowly, but the darkness gradually creeping up from the corners of his sight won't be deterred. He knows it will soon swallow him, take him away to a place he once feared.

But he's not afraid now. His grandmother has once promised she'd be waiting for him. With freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

And he truly wants to believe it is true.

Because, after all he's seen and experienced, it just couldn't all end in nothing more but an eternal night.

His eyes flutter closed on their own account, no matter how hard he tries to keep them open. Panic breaches the cocoon of hazy peacefulness.

No, please…Not yet. Not before he knows for sure.

Please…Just a little while longer…

Anxiety keeps his heart beating, even though it receives hardly enough blood to pump around. But his eyes won't open again. The darkness becomes deeper, although he knows the daylight must still be bright behind his lids.

His breath hitches…. and there is no next to breach the silence.

But now he can hear something else. Anxiously shouting voices. Very vague and faraway. But unmistakably his friends.

They're safe...

He hasn't failed...

Somehow, his mouth manages a small smile and his eyes flutter open one last time.

His hand is nearly completely covered by the softly falling snow, the blood nearly invisible. White erasing the stains of red. A veil of innocence and purity wiping away all sins.

As the image dims, he idly wonders how long it will take for the rest of his body to be covered, buried under the white foundation of a new world.

So pristine white.

Red no more…

-


	2. Chapter 2

-

"Meredith…"

His grandmother looks just like he remembers her. The weathered but expressive face, the twinkling blue eyes identical to his own, the dimple in her left cheek appearing as she smiles warmly at him.

"Mammy…" He sighs, greatly relishing the happy fuzzy feeling the word elicits inside his body.

Then, he catches a whiff of the best scent in two galaxies and sniffs appreciatively.

Mammy laughs. "I baked cookies. Chocolate chip, your favourite."

Even as his mind is wondering, his mouth starts watering.

She gently takes his hand. "I always keep my promises, Mer."

She leads him to the source of the smell, a small cottage up the hill, and only now does he notice his surroundings. Gently rolling hills dappled with pine trees. A stormy grey sky overhead. And next to the cottage an old oak with a tree swing hanging from its lowest branch, swaying slowly in the breeze.

"My old home. Do you like it?" Mammy asks, her eyes twinkling merrily as she stops in front of the door.

"The weather doesn't look too good." He blurts out, instantly regretting his brain hasn't managed to catch up with his mouth. Of all the things he wants to say to her, idle comments about the non-existing weather are on the bottom of a very long list.

Mammy's laugh reminds him of Christmases past, spent with her in the small cottage. Memories of stuffing turkeys with anything but citrus, of making the most ridiculous funny gifts for each other, of long evenings filled with discussions and storytelling cosily in front of the fireplace.

"You still blush prettily, Meredith." She grins and he turns an even deeper shade of red.

His grandmother is the only person he doesn't mind calling him Meredith. After all, she had suggested the name to his mother and he's proud to carry that part of her with him. But that doesn't mean he wants others to make fun of the name. To disturb the wonderful memories that associate Meredith with the happy carefree boy spending the holidays with the person he loves more than anyone in the whole wide world.

He squeezes her hand, not willing to believe his eyes but at the same time knowing without a doubt that it is true. That she is really there.

She returns the squeeze, and then draws him in a hug that causes his traitorous eyes to become increasingly watery.

"It's very real, my brave Meredith." She says softly as she cups his face and forces him to see the truth in her eyes.

Before the first tear can fall to the ground, she captures it gently with one of her enormous flower-printed handkerchiefs.

A pattern of bright red roses on a white background.

Then, vague memories of red staining the white snow return full force, replacing the old bliss.

He starts sobbing in earnest, and she hands him her handkerchief, which smells like cinnamon and roses and beautiful memories, and silently gathers him in her arms, wrapping him in her love.

Only when exhaustion has reduced him to soft hiccuping, she whispers in his ear. "Let it all out, sweetie. You've been keeping it cropped up inside for far too long… But you should know one thing..."

She waits patiently until he locks eyes with her.

"I'm proud of you. So very proud. No matter how much you doubt and blame yourself. Your heart is still pure, your soul is still whole. The only thing that is shattered, is your mind. They way you see yourself. But that can be mended, Meredith. You're strong. Stubborn, just like your grandmother."

She winks mischievously and he can't help but give her a watery smile in return.

Then she turns serious again. "Now, then, Mer, you have to choose…"

His head snaps up, and his genius brain for once doesn't immediately understand.

Mammy points to the cottage behind her, the flickering light of a fire inside and the delicious smell of chocolate chip cookies inviting him in. "You can come with me now, and we'll eat cookies and I'll tell you even more fantastic stories than you'd ever imagine… and this time they are all very much real…"

"Or", she continues with a glance at the valley below, "You can go back for a little while longer."

"Go back?" He echoes dumbly. "But I thought I was…"

Mammy's finger on his lips steals away the rest of his sentence.

"No, Mer. Not truly. You still have a choice."

He frowns. He can't deny there's something still tying him to life. Suddenly, he hears voices echoing from in the valley below, calling his name. Compelling him to answer their cry.

But on the other side, he feels incredibly guilty for even contemplating leaving Mammy here all by herself, never mind the fact that the delicious smell of freshly-baked cookies is making thinking increasingly difficult.

Mammy smiles softly. "I'm not going anywhere, Meredith. I'll be waiting for you right here, with a new batch of cookies ready when you return…"

He's too choked up to speak, to tell her he wants to go back, _needs_ to go back, to finish what he has started.

But in her knowing blue eyes, he can see she understands.

He gives her a quick hug, not daring to linger too long out of fear he'll change his mind, and abruptly starts down the winding path leading into the dark valley below.

But no matter how hard he tries not to, he does turn around after a while.

Mammy is standing in the doorway, waving at him, a pleased smile lighting up her face.

And as Rodney walks into darkness again, Mammy's voice accompanies him. "Remember, Mer, I'll always be proud of you…"

-

"It's a miracle, a bloody miracle!"

Carson's brogue wakes him from a pleasant dream featuring Christmas tree decorating with his grandmother.

His eyes languidly blink the remaining sleep away as they stare at something red in front of him. A beautiful, vivid red.

Life.

He's alive.

The red shifts and his sight focuses on Elizabeth's face bending over him.

"Rodney…" She whispers, and that one word speaks of all the fear and hope and joy.

She gently takes his hand in hers. "You saved my life… And there's nothing I can ever do to thank you properly for that…"

She doesn't know that she can. That she has just done it. That her steady pulse he's feeling against his hand is all the thanks he'll ever need.

Life.

She's alive.

And that's worth overcoming the horror of his memories, memories of killing the people who had tried to kill her…

He flinches as a penlight is shone in his eyes, setting off a firework of agony inside his skull. He groans quietly and his free hand tries to swat away the nuisance.

The hand is captured by another one, larger, stronger but just as gentle as Elizabeth's.

"I'm sorry about that, Rodney, but your blank stare was scaring me a wee bit there…"

He licks his lips and tries to snap something nasty back at Carson, but his dry throat refuses to emit anything else than a painful croak.

The blissfully soothing ice chips the physician provides him with, make him –literally- swallow the comment.

Besides, he's too happy, too overwhelmed still, too much in love with life at the moment to find anything truly annoying.

Life.

They're all alive.

"I'm fine." He says, and he really means it. Sure, his head hurts, and so does the rest of his body. But his mind feels wonderfully clear.

Carson gives him a small pat on his hand before pulling away to check some monitors.

He's happy to feel that Elizabeth's hands, warm and soft and comforting, remain right where they are.

He's sure his smile looks goofy. That and the fact that he isn't liberally tossing around his usual verbal snark seems to unnerve his friends, who keep equally quiet.

It's damn uncomfortable.

Then, he spots John loitering awkwardly behind Elizabeth and raises his eyebrows.

"Sheppard, can you sneak in some chocolate chip cookies… please?"

John's previously blank face splits into a wide grin, but the others seems momentarily too stunned to do anything but gaze quizzically at him.

His smile is decidedly smug now.

Mammy would be happy to know he'd said please.

In fact, he knows it for sure.

He can hear her merry laugh echoing in his heart.

-


End file.
